


One With The Force

by BouncyPickle



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: After the temple is destroyed, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Chirrut struggles with being blind, First Time, Force-Sensitive Chirrut Îmwe, Happy Ending, Healing Sex, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, POV Chirrut Îmwe, Post-Order 66, Virgin Chirrut, aliens getting handsy, blind Chirrut, like Very Virgin Chirrut, not really canon timeline, nothing too graphic, someone get him a sex-ed class, the dark side is a dick, the light side is Baze's dick, young Baze and Chirrut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 01:26:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9525545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BouncyPickle/pseuds/BouncyPickle
Summary: After the fall of the Jedi and The Temple of Whills, the dark side is strong. Chirrut struggles to maintain his faith, his love and his life under such malevolence and Baze is there to make him feel the light again.





	

* * *

 

Baze is almost thirty and Chirrut is twenty five on his way to twenty six. Their on and off affair had started when they were teenagers, stolen kisses and warm embraces in dark corners where other Guardians couldn't see. Chirrut is sworn to an oath of celibacy though and while he knows Baze has long since forgone his, Chirrut can not allow himself to do the same. 

It is a point of contention; Baze never pushes Chirrut but the blind man can sense the frustration that rolls off of Baze in waves any time Chirrut puts a stop to anything more than kissing. Chirrut wants, oh how he wants, to give Baze everything he's ever desired but Chirrut can’t. 

This year changes everything. 

Empire soldiers are seen in Jedha and then Empire soldiers are fighting for Jedha and by the end of the year, the Empire stakes claim and the Temple of Whills is destroyed, rubble at Chirrut’s feet. His faith wavers and his heart pounds so hard it is all he can hear, leaving him blind and deaf. 

It is Baze who grabs his arm and drags Chirrut away, down into the streets of the city where Chirrut hasn't been for years. The larger man pulls them into a building but Chirrut stumbles, lost and confused and afraid. 

“Chirrut,” Baze’s rumbling voice Chirrut feels more than hears; “Are you hurt?” 

Chirrut reaches a hand out and Baze immediately closes a big fist around his fingers. He tugs Baze closer, other hand tangling into the front of Baze’s roughspun tunic. Baze’s arms come up around him, touching him and checking him over for injuries. 

“Chirrut?” he tries again but Chirrut doesn't know what to say. 

He has no physical wounds but he has never been in so much pain. 

Chirrut’s fingers are shaking when he reaches up to Baze’s face, traces his cheekbone and nose down to his lips. The moment he finds them, Chirrut is up on his tippy-toes kissing the other man. Baze stills at first then melts into Chirrut, big fingers denting the flesh of Chirrut’s back and dragging the smaller man closer. 

A desperate noise Chirrut has never made before reverberates from his throat, smothered by Baze’s mouth. Baze pulls back first, drawing Chirrut to rest against his shoulder. 

“I've got you,” he whispers and Chirrut want to believe. 

His faith alters, changes with him, and his devotions obscure. No longer is it Chirrut’s duty to tend to the temple gardens, they are blighted, no longer does he have to remain on temple grounds, instead he doesn't step foot on temple grounds again. 

The Force is there, always there, but it feels darker now. There are no Guardians to maintain a balance and the peoples crammed into the city center are bitter and without love. It takes deep meditation for Chirrut to find the light now. 

It comes in young couples holding hands, in children laughing and playing, not weighed down by the war torn world around them. The light shines when Baze is there with him, his solid presence radiates warmth and love.

That is where Chirrut finds the light side now. Not in peace, but love. 

He feels it around Baze so deeply Chirrut can scarcely stand Baze’s touch; it burns his very skin it is so over stimulating. The combination his blindness and The Force thrumming to life under his skin leaves Chirrut dizzy, uneasy at any contact between them. 

Baze notices something is off right away and tries to keep his distance, which is why, Chirrut supposes, he finds himself crawling into Baze’s bed, curling up against the bigger man's side. Baze tenses and Chirrut can feel his unease, his fear, his excitement. It is hard to distinguish from his own. 

“What are you doing?” Baze asks gruffly, voice gravelly from sleep. 

“I am one with the Force and the Force is with me,” Chirrut prays to himself and he knows Baze will be irritated with his lack of answer but truthfully Chirrut does not have one. He is only following his instincts, allowing himself to be led by the Force just as he has always done.

“Kiss me?” Chirrut whispers and it comes out as a question even though he didn't mean for it to. 

Baze snorts and doesn't oblige him, rolling over so his back is to Chirrut. “Go back to bed Chirrut,” his voice is strained and Chirrut can sense his anger even though Baze is trying to hide it. 

In matters like this, Chirrut is so very far out of his depth. He doesn't know how to ask Baze for what he wants, fears Baze will turn him down anyway. He doesn't feel self-doubt very often but here, now, in bed with the man he loves considering breaking his final oath, Chirrut doubts himself very, very much. 

A sickening feeling churns in his stomach as his mind viciously plants spores of dark thoughts that grow like a fungus. 

He worries that perhaps Baze isn't actually attracted to him. Chirrut doesn't know what his own face and body look like, maybe Baze doesn't even like them. The older man isn't much for words but it has never bothered Chirrut before. 

Now all he can think about are the times Baze didn't call him handsome or sexy or strong back when Chirrut said it first. Baze has never expressly said he wants him and Chirrut likes to pretend it doesn't bother him; he knows his impositions on their relationship are unfair and that Baze is probably only holding back for his benefit, but...perhaps Baze had just never wanted to make love to him at all. 

Tears well in his eyes but Chirrut holds them in, letting his eyes fall shut instead. He rolls to face the wall and tucks his legs up under himself. He really should leave Baze’s bed but he's too cold and even halfway across the mattress, Baze is still warmer than sleeping alone. 

When he wakes up, Chirrut is disoriented. The Force feels so far away, distant. Cold. Something feels off, smells off, but he can't figure out what it is. Rolling over and pulling himself up, Chirrut gets out of his bed and immediately trips over Baze’s repeater rifle. The one next to Baze’s bed, he remembers suddenly. 

He falls and hits his chin on the stone floor hard enough that he can taste blood in his mouth. The rooms spins, a mess of sounds and smells and the pain he is all too aware of in his scraped chin and blooming in his wrist. 

“Chirrut!” Baze’s voice washes over all of his senses and Chirrut can feel when Baze rushes to his side. 

“I'm okay, I'm okay,” Chirrut waves the taller man off, pushing himself up and immediately falls back to the floor with a bitten off shout of pain. 

Baze grabs his shoulders and Chirrut starts, surprised, but it doesn't stop the bigger man from sitting him up. Chirrut doesn't like being manhandled but with Baze he can make an exception. 

“What hurts?” Baze asks, gruffly, and Chirrut can't help but feel Baze is irritated with him. 

“I'm okay,” Chirrut tries a smile and doesn't hold his wrist to his chest like he wants; “What happened?” 

Baze grabs his arm and drags it out for examination without warning and Chirrut startles again. Big fingers curl tightly around Chirrut’s elbow as his sleeve is shoved up. “Why would you hide this from me?” Baze snaps and Chirrut shrinks a little more; “It's already starting to swell. It could be broken Chirrut!” 

Chirrut worries his lip between his teeth, finding the spot his canine split open when he fell that must account for the sickening taste of metal sticking to his tongue. Baze lets out a deep sigh and Chirrut feels tears in his eyes, wonders briefly what they look like. Probably sickening, like the smell of the elderly with not much time left for this world. 

“I'm sorry,” is all Chirrut can think to say. He knows his presence has been so burdensome to Baze after the fall of the temple and Chirrut has never, ever wanted to be Baze’s burden. “I'm so sorry, Baze.” 

He must look as pathetic as he sounds because Baze’s irritation softens into pity and Chirrut feels sick to his stomach. Baze is one of the only people Chirrut has ever met who has never pitied him. It hurts so much more than any broken bone ever could. 

Suddenly Chirrut feels off-kilter. Without the reassuring embrace of the light side of the Force, Chirrut’s world is so very dark. He tugs at Baze’s hold on his arm, hoping the other man will release him but Baze doesn't. 

“Chirrut,” his voice is clear and level in Chirrut’s ears, grounding; “Tell me what's wrong.” 

It isn't inquisitive as much as it is demanding and Chirrut can't help but bristle under the authoritative tone. “Let me go,” Chirrut’s voice isn't as stern as he would have liked and Baze doesn't listen; “I can't focus when you're touching me, let me go.” It almost sounds like a plea and Baze snaps his hands back like Chirrut’s words physically scald him. “The Force is...different now, Baze,” he tries to explain but isn't sure how; “It's harder to find the light. It gives me less sight than it used to,” the aura around Baze darkens so Chirrut quickly finishes; “You are full of life and love, Baze, where the light side of the Force finds its strength. I do not know what a sun looks like but I imagine it's a lot like how you feel to me. Warm and full of buzzing energy. It feels like fire when you touch me.” 

There is a moment of quiet and Chirrut can't stand it. He clamors to his feet, tucks his wrist to his chest and fumbles around for his staff. He can hear Baze behind him, following him, but he stops at the door. 

“Where are you going?” Baze asks and his voice is quiet, resigned. He should have known he would end up just as burdensome to Baze as he was to everyone else. 

“I'm going to see the healer,” Chirrut smiles but he doesn't feel it reach his eyes; “to get my wrist checked, just in case. I'll be back before lunch.” 

He can't find his way around as easily as he normally would but luckily Chirrut has the roads memorized. It's pretty early in the morning still, leaving the air cold and sharp. He prefers it this way, easier to hear things in such crispness. The healer lives down near the promenade where most of the stalls and vendors are set up. Baze’s home is up a ways away from all the noise and commotion. Even though the walk is a long one, Chirrut appreciates the quiet the distance affords. 

There's a clatter of noise to his right and Chirrut halts. Footsteps, three individuals, two approach from the front, one behind and this cannot be good. 

“Hand over your credits and wes won't have any trouble,” Chirrut can't believe he's being robbed right now. 

“I'm sorry but I have nothing of value,” it's true; the healer owes him a favor and Baze is currently holding onto all of their money. 

“Search him,” is ordered so Chirrut is prepared when hands grab at his waist looking for a coinpurse. 

When the hands slow, catching on the edge of his robes and making to move up under them Chirrut jerks away, fear prickling inside him. On a normal day, three common thugs are no problem for him but Chirrut is injured and the Force is a jumbled mess. He doubts himself once again, stomach churning with fear. 

“Well if you ain't got moneys maybe there's something else you can do for us,” one voice is too close to Chirrut and it startles him. He hadn't heard his approach; it is hard to hear over his heart pounding in his ears. 

“Yous kinda a pretty one,” someone says behind him, so close he can feel their breath on his neck. It smells like stale alcohol. 

A hand falls to his hip and Chirrut decides to act. Using his only functioning hand, Chirrut whirls his staff to the side, snaps it behind him and sweeps the feet out from the man in front of him. Three blows solid enough to knock the men down, but not to knock them out.

Chirrut does the only thing he can think of and he turns around and runs. He knows the path back to Baze’s house intrinsically but he can hear the men chasing him, cursing and making very nasty promises. 

“When Is catch you, Ims gonna fuck your guts out your body,” is the one that really quickens Chirrut’s step. 

When he reaches the door to Baze’s apartment, Chirrut drops his staff and fumbles with both hands for the door’s switch. He knows where it is, on the left side, left side, left side, but he can't find it. His robe cinches around his neck, choking him when someone jerks him backward.

His arm shoots out, landing a solid blow to something but then someone catches it. Their hand is cold and slimy, it suctions to his skin so he can't get away. 

“Yous gonna regret fighting,” he hisses it into Chirrut’s ear before the wet slide of a tongue slithers up his neck. 

It's so long it wraps around his throat once before diving into Chirrut’s mouth and cutting off his scream. The thickness of it wrenches his jaw open until it's immobile. He feels as another hand pulls on the sash over his stomach and his robe falls open. 

Cold air hits his skin and soon warm flesh follows, touching his chest. He grunts around the tongue in his mouth and pulls at his arm. His legs stomp on feet and kick but it isn't enough. He catches  the fingers on his chest with his bad hand; it hurts so much it brings tears to his eyes and doesn't even slow the other man down. 

Just as the hand on his stomach slides down into his pants and the tongue in his mouth slips past the edge of his throat, Chirrut hears blaster fire. He can smell the blasts of energy as they zing by his head. The men around him scream and suddenly he's released. He falls to his knees. 

“Baze? Baze!” he calls out but there is no reply. 

A foreign voice speaks instead; “Hey are you okay?” and she sounds nice. Chirrut can feel her goodness and it lights up the world around him. 

He sucks in a shuddering breath; his throat hurts so much; “Yes I think-” 

“What's going on out here?” Baze yells and Chirrut can hear the charge of his weapon being activated. 

Before he can speak  his savior pipes up; “Just a couple of thugs trying to get handsy with a blind monk. What is Jedha coming to these days? Even holy men aren't respected anymore.”

Chirrut pushes himself to his feet, trying to pull the front of his robes closed as he hears Baze’s approach. 

“Chirrut!” he doesn't stop until he has his hands on Chirrut’s biceps and it makes Chirrut flinch a little; “Are you okay? What happened? What did those bastards do to you?” 

“Nothing, thanks to my savior here,” he tries a smile, hoping to comfort some of the swirling turmoil he can sense in Baze. He turns his head toward the woman standing behind Baze’s shoulder; “Thank you.” 

He can hear what he assumes is a shrug; “Hey, it ain't a favor if it's fun. Just be more careful. You may be blind but we aren't and a face like yours could get you into trouble again someday.” 

Chirrut wants to ask her what she means but he hears her turn down a side alley and decides to let it go. Baze is curtly silent but his fingers tighten their hold on Chirrut suddenly and Chirrut jerks under his grip. 

“Ah! Baze, that hurts,” he squirms and Baze immediately frees him, gasping in surprise as if he didn't realize he had even been doing it. 

“Inside,” Baze’s voice sounds distant and harsh and Chirrut immediately feels guilt wash over him. He should have run toward town instead. Then at least Baze wouldn't have to see him in such a deplorable state. 

“Come, Chirrut,” Baze takes Chirrut’s hand and drags him into his apartment. Chirrut winces when the fingers on his bad hand curl into his robes, trying to hold them shut. 

“I'm sorry,” Chirrut offers as Bazes closes the door behind him. He can suddenly sense a sharp burst of anger from Baze and Chirrut’s blood feels like it's freezing inside his body. “I-I did try to fight but with only one hand…” he tries to defend himself; “There were three of them and-” 

“Chirrut,” Baze snaps but takes a calming breath, trying to keep his anger at bay and Chirrut hangs his head in shame; “Are you okay?” 

Chirrut is a little shocked by the raw concern in Baze’s voice. He nods his head in reply, gaze turned toward the floor even if he can't see it. A gentle hand cups his cheek and Chirrut shudders. It tips his face up and Bazes kisses his forehead. 

“I'll go to the healer and get you some bacta patches,” then Baze kisses at Chirrut’s temple; “Please stay here and rest.” 

Chirrut deflates; “Okay.” 

He wants to argue but is too tired. Instead he waits quietly and listens to Baze leave. Chirrut moves only to kneel on the ground. 

Then Chirrut prays; “I'm one with the Force and the Force is with me.” 

He says it over and over hoping for a sense of calm to come to him but it does not. Chirrut isn't aware of how much time has passed but in the middle of his meditation, the door whooshes open behind him. 

He cocks his head to listen and his shoulders snap taught; “Baze? Baze, is that you?”

“What, can't tell by my boots?” Baze asks but there's an edge of worry to it. 

“Yes, of course,” Chirrut stands, trying a laugh, “Just double-checking.” 

He finds a chair at the table and sits down. Baze drops a cloth bag in front of him and Chirrut quickly reaches in to feel its contents. There’s the rough fabric of gauze, the flat, crinkly plastic of bacta patches but what he finds at the bottom startle him. 

“Gyeji berries?” he asks incredulously; they're his favorite; “Where did you get them?”

“Some old woman was selling fruit,” Baze replies and Chirrut hears the bigger man sit next to him. 

While Chirrut wants to devour said fruit right away, he pulls the bacta and cloth free first. His wrist is starting to become hard to ignore. 

“Here, let me,” Baze offers, scooting closer. When he pulls Chirrut’s injured arm into his lap, Chirrut chews at a frown. 

“You...you don't have to Baze. I can do it.” 

Baze chuckles at him, a soft sound; “I know you can, Chirrut. It's just faster this way. And there's less chance your bandage will end up crooked.” 

Chirrut smiles and lets his friend work. He can feel the gentle press of the bacta around his wrist and it hurts but he doesn't move. Immediately it makes his skin tingle pleasantly, sapping his pain away. Then Baze is slowly wrapping the gauze around his forearm to hold everything in place. 

“She said to leave it on overnight. If it's just sprained it should heal in a few hours but a break won't be healed until the morning,” Baze doesn't release Chirrut’s arm, holding his fingers tenderly; “better to be safe though and leave it.” 

“Thank you,” Chirrut curls his fingers in Baze’s a little more tightly; “I'm really sorry you had to go through so much trouble because of me.” 

Baze lifts Chirrut’s hand, placing a sweet little kiss on his knuckles; “It's no trouble so please stop apologizing. I just want to make sure you're okay. Are you hurt anywhere else, Chirrut?” Chirrut pauses and Baze presses on; “Tell me.” 

Chirrut lifts his other hand, he can feel pain on his palm and down his wrist but nothing like the soreness of his injured arm. 

“I don't know,” he confesses, showing Baze his hand palm up; “What does it look like?”

Baze is so gentle when he takes Chirrut’s slender wrist in his big hand. He hums thoughtfully and drags a finger down Chirrut’s palm. 

“There are blisters here,” he confesses and pokes three painful spots on Chirrut’s hand; “and your wrist is a little bruised up. What happened?” 

“He grabbed my arm and I could not get it free,” Chirrut admits; “His skin stuck to mine so I was afraid he'd taken some with him when he fell.” 

Baze lifts Chirrut’s palm and Chirrut startles a little when he kisses it. “I'm sorry, my love,” Baze whispers and Chirrut’s head spins; Baze sounds so enamored; “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.” 

The air in Chirrut’s lungs leaves him. He can feel tears prickling in his eyes but he doesn’t want them to fall. He squeezes Baze’s fingers so hard it probably hurts. Chirrut shakes his head vigorously as he clenches his eyes shut. Sucking in a shaky breath, Chirrut tries with all of his strength not to cry and ends up trembling instead. 

Baze wrenches Chirrut forward, into his chest, and wraps his arms around him. Chirrut melts into him, tucking his face under Baze’s chin and savoring the bigger man’s warmth. Chirrut lets the tears sticking in his lashes fall and he knows Baze can feel them against his neck. 

“I've got you,” Baze promises Chirrut again and Chirrut wants so badly to believe it holds more meaning to Baze than it actually does. “Chirrut,” Baze rests a hand on the back on the back of Chirrut’s head; “Are you sure you’re alright?” 

Chirrut has done enough damage for one day so he pulls back, dabbing his eyes off on his sleeve. He lets out a wet sounding chuckle; “I’m sorry my friend. It has been a long day.” 

Baze hums, a sound of acknowledgment, and heaves himself up to his feet. 

“How about you wash off and change?” Baze suggests and Chirrut can think of nothing else he wants to do more; “I’ll make us some lunch.” 

The rest of the day passes by as easily as ever, only a little residual tension hangs in the air. Baze cooks them buns stuffed with leafy greens from their garden and makes sure to add a plentiful amount of Gyeji berries to Chirrut’s plate. Wrapped, freshly washed, in his cleanest, warmest set of robes, Chirrut’s mind finally settles. 

The calm that washes over him feels like the rolling waves of serenity that follow in the tides of the Force. Slowly, he becomes aware of the glowing rays of the sun hitting the side of his cheek, of the smell of the spice vendor down the street, deep and rich and calming, and Chirrut finds peace. 

Baze’s company helps immensely; he radiates light and it’s a grounding source of familiarity. Chirrut takes the afternoon to meditate and practice his forms, pushing himself a little harder than usual, while Baze chooses to read the novel on his holopad he’d been putting off. Chirrut knows Baze had plans to go out and look for a new oscillator for his blaster today but doesn’t say anything. It’s selfish, but Chirrut wants Baze by his side. 

He meditates into the evening, after he feels the sun set and a familiar prickle of cold greets the air. Baze is the one that disrupts him, grunting out that dinner is ready. Chirrut’s stomach grumbles out loud at the idea and they both chuckle. 

“Thank you, Baze,” Chirrut catches Baze’s hand as he places a plate down on the table. 

He uses his grip on the taller man to steady himself as he pushes himself up and plants a kiss on the corner of Baze’s mouth. It wasn’t his intended target, Chirrut never used to miss before, but he pretends it was. 

“It smells delicious,” and it does. 

Chirrut can distinguish many enticing aromas; Jedhan cinnamon that pairs so well with the violet garlic Baze insists they grow, some cardamom, a splash of citrus. His mouth waters as Baze explains all of what is on his plate, an old habit from when they were kids. Chirrut lets Baze carry on as he digs in with fervor, shoveling his food into his mouth gracelessly. 

“That’s disgusting, Chirrut,” Baze chuckles and Chirrut knows it’s a simple jest, an old one. 

Chirrut sticks his tongue out playfully and laughs when he knows Baze recoils from the sight. “Stop making everything so delicious if you don’t want me to enjoy it so much,” and Baze’s aura glows, warm and bright. 

The overwhelming feeling takes Chirrut’s breath for a second. Then Baze tenses, darkening, and Chirrut mourns the loss as the world around him surrenders some of its light too. Quiet falls and Chirrut doesn’t feel all that hungry anymore. He stands and picks up his plate.

“Thank you, Baze. Dinner was delicious, as always,” he tries to restore the mood from before and it fails. 

Chirrut feels along the counter, deciding where to set down his plate. 

“Chirrut, wait!” Baze’s voice is loud and sudden, his chair scrapes across the floor and Chirrut jumps, plate falling from his hand and crashing to the ground. 

“Oh by the-” Chirrut huffs, his heart racing as he kneels down to clean up his mess; “What was that for, Baze? I nearly jumped out of my skin!” 

“Sorry I-There was a knife,” Baze fumbles over his words; he isn’t used to startling Chirrut and Chirrut isn’t used to being startled; “You almost put your hand right on the blade.” 

“Ah,” Chirrut laughs good naturedly, picking up the big pieces of fractured clay and stacking them together; “My savior then.” 

Together they clean up after the meal and Chirrut yawns, a little for show and a little sincere. “I think it’s time for me to turn in for the night,” Chirrut feels around, finding the alcove his bed is tucked into before shucking his outermost layer off. A tank top that crosses his chest and ties at the waist and pants that cling to his body and stop at his knees are all that’s left; Chirrut’s standard sleep attire. 

He senses a spike of something from Baze, an almost electrical current of emotion, that is gone as quickly as it arrives. “I’ll only be up for a little while longer myself,” Chirrut hears Baze sit at the table as he slides under his covers; “but I’ll try and be quiet.” 

It doesn’t really matter, Chirrut is asleep the moment his head hits the pillow. 

When Chirrut jerks awake, he is cold and sweaty. He can sense time has passed; the world is very quiet except for Baze’s even breathing which means it has to be late into the night. A shiver courses through Chirrut’s body and it’s so frigid and lifeless it physically hurts. 

He can feel a great darkness in the Force and it makes Chirrut’s hands shake; his breaths come in short and uneven. Before he knows why, Chirrut falls from his bed and all but crawls across the room, he feels around wildly even though he has every inch of their shared home memorized. 

The crushing weight of the dark side disorients him and Chirrut frantically grabs at Baze’s quilt. “Baze?” he searches with his hands madly for Baze’s body under his blankets; “Baze!” 

Suddenly fingers close around his own and Chirrut sucks in a staggered breath. 

“Chirrut, what is it?” Baze tugs Chirrut up toward him, guiding him off his knees and up into the bed; “What’s wrong?” Chirrut falls into Baze’s body. 

“I am one with the Force and the Force is with me,” he says it like it hurts, his own private curse. 

He doesn’t think Baze completely understands but he sighs and wraps Chirrut in his arms anyway, pulling his quilt back up over them both. 

“Kiss me?” Chirrut whispers, voice wavering with uncertainty. He clings desperately to Baze as Baze presses their lips together, a gentle touch and nothing more. “No, Baze please,” Chirrut whimpers when Baze pulls back and Baze tenses under his fingers; “Please don’t stop.”

Baze sucks in a tight breath; “What are you asking of me?” His voice sounds accusing and harsh but Chirrut can’t distinguish between what’s real and what’s been twisted with the poisonous fingers of the dark side. 

“I want…” Chirrut starts but Baze feels cold and sharp under his fingers like ice. 

“What do you want, Chirrut?” Baze’s voice has settled into a flat, empty sound. Controlled, Chirrut’s mind supplies. 

“I want you, Baze,” he whispers, pathetically unsure of himself; “I just... I just want you so much.” 

The cold in Baze simmers away, leaving him hot, and Chirrut’s fingers burn amazingly over him. 

A hand curls around his hip, fingers just barely touching under his shirt, skin on skin, and Chirrut surprises himself when he jerks away with a gasp. He is horrified when Baze retreats, his touch and heat leaving Chirrut. 

“No, Baze wait I...I’m so sorry,” his voice cracks like it hasn’t done in years; “He touched...I was... I wanted you to be the only one to ever touch me.” He hiccups against the tears stuck in his throat when he feels Baze tense in front of him. 

It’s such a dirty thing to confess, that Chirrut could do nothing to stop it when a rough palm slipped past his navel and into his pants. He can still feel the callous, cracked skin as if it was wrapped around his most tender flesh even now. 

“I’m sorry,” he throws himself against Baze, arms circling Baze’s neck as Chirrut’s whole body presses into the other man; “I know you’re not-but it still feels like-” 

“Where did he touch you?” Baze’s voice is deceivingly even but Chirrut recognizes the rage simmering underneath. 

He sniffles as he grabs Baze’s hand. Chirrut guides Baze’s fingers to the edge of his tunic and slides them up under the fabric. Shuddering, Chirrut presses Baze’s palm into his chest firmly. Then he slides Baze’s hand down, his big fingers catch in Chirrut’s belly button as Chirrut pushes them past it. He tucks his face under Baze’s chin, holding his breath, and slips Baze’s hand into his pants. Covering Baze’s fingers with his own, Chirrut wraps them around his member. 

“Here,” and Baze growls in his ear. Chirrut whispers, pleads, chokes over the tears in his throat; “Please don't be mad at me, Baze.” 

Baze freezes. 

“Chirrut, why would I....? You've done nothing wrong,” Baze says it but Chirrut doesn't see it that way. 

“All those years at the temple I forced you to abstain and then I break my oath with someone else,” he curls in impossibly closer to Baze’s warm body; “I wanted it to be you.”

“Someone forcing you and taking what they want is not the same as you breaking your oath,” Baze sounds as sure as he did when he was the most devote Guardian of them all; “and touching like this is not the same as when having sex, Chirrut.” 

“Show me,” Chirrut is taken aback by how sure his own voice sounds; “Baze I want you to show me.” 

Baze hesitates but doesn't pull away and Chirrut’s fingers squeeze his a little more firmly around his hardening length. 

“If that is true,” Baze swallows and his heart is beating so hard Chirrut can feel it against his cheek; “Why do you pull away from me? Not just after what happened today. Before that. You told me my touch burns you Chirrut.” 

“Yes,” Chirrut whispers, not quite sure how to describe it; “Your fingers burn my skin and sometimes the light I feel from you takes my breath but...but it feels good.” 

A shudder runs through Baze’s body and his breath stutters. “You like it,” Baze sounds surprised, a realization having dawned. He chuckles, breath hot against Chirrut’s neck; “This whole time I thought you were in pain. You could have just told me you were turned on, Chirrut.” 

Confusion seeps into Chirrut’s thoughts and he bites his lip. He doesn't want to sound stupid but he asks anyway; “Turned on?” Baze laughs at him as he kisses Chirrut on his shoulder. 

“Aroused,” he clarifies and Chirrut blushes dark red; “Do I excite you?” 

“Yes,” Chirrut answers breathlessly. How simple it turns out to be, putting words to such an intense, overwhelming feeling; “You make me feel very turned on, Baze.” 

For the first time since Chirrut placed them there, Baze’s fingers move against his member. He squeezes and pulls, one short little tug, and Chirrut’s veins ignite. The feeling of arousal, electric and sudden, zips all the way to his fingers and toes and Chirrut’s gasp shudders into a moan.

“You turn me on too, Chirrut,” Baze’s voice Chirrut feels underneath his very skin and he trembles with want; “Force, you're beautiful.” 

“Please,” Chirrut begs Baze for more; it feels so good to have Baze this close. 

“I've got you,” Baze tips his head down to kiss Chirrut and it's never felt like this before. 

Their lips meet as Baze slides his palm down Chirrut’s hardness and Baze’s tongue feels like blaster fire against his mouth. When Chirrut gasps around it, Baze slips it into his mouth and the sensation is overwhelming and incredible. Baze tastes like Jedha; like spice and kaff and sweet, like Gyeji berries; he feels so soft and hot and wet, teasing at the roof of Chirrut’s mouth. 

When his thumb swipes across the tip of Chirrut’s throbbing length, Chirrut’s world explodes. All of the muscles in his body ripple with buzzing energy and something spills into Baze’s hand, release like Chirrut has never felt before sweeps through him. Chirrut’s fingers grasp at Baze’s shoulders and a mewl spills past his lips. 

“So beautiful,” Baze’s voice is thick, deep, and Chirrut shivers listening to it. 

A hand caresses Chirrut’s cheek as he catches his breath. When Baze tries to pull free from Chirrut’s pants, Chirrut jerks him to a halt with a desperate noise. 

“No,” Chirrut swallows thickly as the fire in his veins ebbs; “I don’t want to stop yet.”

Baze dips down to kiss him again, just their lips connecting tenderly. “When could I ever deny you anything?” the taller man whispers, almost more to himself than anything and leans over Chirrut, pulling his hand free and reaching for something across from Chirrut. 

He doesn’t say what he’s found but Chirrut is too distracted to ask when Baze is back next to him, tugging open the belt that holds his shirt together. Chirrut stills for a moment but takes a deep breath, encompassing himself in Baze’s scent, and his fears are chased away. 

A big hand on his shoulder guides Chirrut onto his back and he goes easily. Excitement surges through him when Baze situates himself between Chirrut’s legs, over top of him. His fingers circle Chirrut’s waist then slide down, fingers catching the edge of Chirrut’s pants.

Lifting his hips and legs, Chirrut helps the other man pull his bottoms off eagerly. Chirrut is too debauched to feel embarrassed when he knows Baze’s eyes are on him, taking in his body. 

“Baze,” he whines, knees squeezing into Baze’s sides, perturbed when he can’t feel the other man’s skin; “You too.” 

Baze snickers and Chirrut can hear the slide of fabric on skin as Baze pulls his shirt off. “You can’t even see anything, Chirrut, you’re blind,” he prods playfully as he ducks away to remove his pants. 

“I’m blind?!” Chirrut gasps dramatically; “I had no idea!” 

“Ha. Ha,” Baze doesn’t actually laugh but Chirrut does; “You know what I mean.” 

“Just because I can’t see you, Baze, doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate you,” Chirrut reaches his hands out and Baze leans into them. 

The moment his fingers find the bare skin of Baze’s chest, he almost wants to jerk them away. The drag of smooth skin, of the pulsing veins and taught muscles underneath, all thrumming with life and heat, sears his fingertips. 

Chirrut sucks in a tight breath and trails his fingers up Baze’s body. He’s always known the other man was bigger than him but feeling the swells of muscle in Baze’s arms, rippling over his stomach, up his pecs, makes Chirrut’s heart stutter. Chirrut has touched Baze’s face before but it feels different this time. His hard edges are soft and warm; there’s a smile on his lips and Chirrut shivers when Baze presses them into his fingers, kissing his fingertips. 

Chirrut catches Baze on either side of his jaw and pulls him down. Baze complies easily and presses his bare chest into Chirrut’s as their mouths find each other. A desperate moan stammers past Chirrut’s lips and into Baze’s when the other man’s cock digs into his stomach. 

It is so hard and feels so big against him that Chirrut scrambles to reach down, needing to explore it for himself. Baze groans from deep within his chest when Chirrut’s fingers wind around his stiff shaft. 

“Oh my,” Chirrut gasps, head spinning as Baze decides to kiss at his throat; “You’re very big.” 

Baze growls, dropping his forehead into Chirrut’s collarbone. “You say these things...” he mumbles and Chirrut can feel how hot his face is, thinks maybe he’s blushing; “You have no idea what you do to me Chirrut, gods.” 

Then Chirrut feels his own face heat up and chuckles; “Somehow I think this feeling is mutual.” 

Chirrut hears Baze shuffle around before he tells Chirrut to; “Give me your hand.” 

He releases Baze’s member and let’s the other man have his arm. Baze flips it palm up and something cool and glutinous splashes into his skin. Chirrut yanks at his hand with a startled; “What are you doing? What is that?” 

“Relax,” Baze hums affectionately and rubs the slick substance over Chirrut’s palm; “It’s just massage oil. I use it to ease sore muscles but it should work for this as well.” 

Baze says it like Chirrut should know what he’s talking about so Chirrut nods his head. Then Baze lowers Chirrut’s hand again, and Chirrut gets the idea. He closes his slippery fingers around Baze’s cock and Baze moans above him. 

Chirrut has never touched himself like this, such things were forbidden in the clergy, so he tries to remember what Baze had done to him earlier. He squeezes a little harder and rubs his palm up Baze’s hard length. 

When Baze lets out another pleased sound above him Chirrut’s curiosity wins out and he reaches up with his free hand, sliding his cool fingers along Baze’s hot jaw. They catch in a trail of sweat dripping down from Baze’s temple just as Baze moans again. 

“Mm, Chirrut,” Baze turns his face to kiss Chirrut’s palm and groans; “I want to fuck you.” 

It comes out like a moan of pleasure and Baze probably hadn’t meant to say it at all. Even so, Chirrut feels arousal shoot through his whole body. He keens, finger pawing at Baze’s cheek. A grunt of surprise and lust rips from Chirrut’s throat when he accidentally slips his fingertips past Baze’s lips. 

He sucks them into his mouth and Chirrut cries out; “Please! Baze, do that. I want to do that. Fuck me.” 

Baze splutters, yanking Chirrut’s hand away from his face and pinning it to the mattress. Chirrut winces as Baze squeezes around the bruise on his wrist but it doesn’t stop him from moaning. 

“Chirrut-” Baze warns; “That’s...it’s too much.” 

Chirrut shakes his head, dropping Baze’s cock to grab at his shoulder and pull Baze closer so Chirrut can kiss him. 

“No it isn’t,” he plants his lips on Baze’s jaw as well; “We both want it, so why not?” 

“You don’t even know what it is you’re asking me to do!” Baze tries but a grunt slips past his lips when Chirrut sucks on his jugular. 

“So what if this is new to me? I trust you Baze,” he presses his face into Baze’s neck, relishing his scent; “I want you.” 

Bazes sighs but it comes out fond and light; “One day, I will learn how to say no to you.”

Chirrut grins against Baze’s skin. Then Baze catches the back of Chirrut’s head and pulls him away. 

“Lay on your back,” Chirrut immediately complies, eager; “Okay good now just,” Baze pauses to ghost a feather light touch under Chirrut’s knee and Chirrut can hear when Baze swallows thickly; “Spread your legs a little for me.” 

When Chirrut does, Baze tightens his hold on Chirrut’s knee and pushes it up, into his chest. Chirrut knows his body is on display for the other man and his pulse jumps, fingers tangling into the quilt under him, squeezing tightly. 

He starts when oil is spilled down the cleft of his backside and snatches Baze by his wrist. Chirrut doesn’t try to hinder Baze though, just hangs on. Baze drags a rough finger pad up until it catches on Chirrut’s tight opening and Chirrut squirms. 

The room is hot and the Force feels strong, bright and all encompassing. It makes Chirrut’s senses sharp. When Baze slips his finger inside carefully, Chirrut feels it like a thousand plasma grenades exploding behind his eyelids. 

A whimper spills past his lips and it sounds so unbelievably loud. Baze shushes him, running a soft touch down his side; “Stay with me, Chirrut.” 

So he tries, relaxing his body to the intrusion of Baze’s fingers, and focuses on the feeling of being stretched open. When another finger is pressed in, Chirrut’s head falls back and a moan pours from his throat. It feels so good. Baze shifts them, curling up against Chirrut’s soft inner flesh and hits something that makes Chirrut cry out. 

His muscles go taut and his cock jerks; then Chirrut snaps up, forehead hitting Baze’s bicep, and comes. He spills, hot and sticky all over his stomach and thighs but Baze is the one that moans. 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” Chirrut chants when Baze’s fingers go still; “I want to feel you inside me. Don’t stop, Baze.” 

A big hand slides down Chirrut’s shoulder, over his collarbone, and presses him back to the mattress. “Relax,” Baze kisses Chirrut on his temple and Chirrut calms; “I’m not stopping anything.” 

Chirrut nods, fingers gripping Baze’s forearms and hanging on tight. His nerve endings are on fire and when Baze slides another finger inside Chirrut’s whole body quivers around it. Baze is patient and slow and works Chirrut open with abundant tenderness, pausing every time Chirrut whimpers to wait for him to adjust. 

Finally when Baze’s fingers slip free and Chirrut can feel the other man’s slick cock slide down his inner thigh, Chirrut wraps his arms behind Baze’s neck, pulls, and the bigger man descends into a sloppy kiss. Baze moans against his lips and Chirrut feels the vibration of it from his mouth down to his toes. 

When Baze hikes his leg up higher, Chirrut wraps the other one over Baze’s hips and squeezes him even closer. A big arm loops underneath the small of Chirrut’s back and hoists him up. 

Then he feels the tip of Baze’s thickness slip over his entrance and Chirrut digs his blunt fingernails into Baze’s shoulders. Baze’s breath is hot over Chirrut’s face, making sweat emerge in tiny, wet beads on his skin. When Baze pants against him the air chills his damp flesh and Chirrut shivers. 

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Baze asks, forehead resting on top of Chirrut’s; “We don’t-” 

“I’m sure, Baze,” Chirrut tips his face up just enough for his lips to linger over Baze’s mouth; “I am one with the force and I fear nothing.” Chirrut is sure Baze doesn’t understand how much his prayer revolves around the other man; the embodiment of the light side and Chirrut’s own personal beacon in the dark. 

Baze just chuckles; “You’re praying? I’m not sure if I should be flattered or offended.”

So instead of replying, Chirrut urges him closer with a squeeze of his thighs. Baze slips inside and Chirrut stretches tightly around his width. A gasp is knocked from Chirrut’s mouth; this feels nothing like Baze’s fingers. 

The cock inside of him is blistering with heat and solid, unyielding as it pushes through Chirrut’s flesh and forges a new path. His chest heaves as all of the muscles in Chirrut’s body tense against the foreign feeling. He whimpers and groans, clutching onto Baze’s back the whole time to make sure Baze keeps going. 

Baze feels astonishing as he pushes unbelievably deep, all the way in until his thighs are pressed against Chirrut’s ass. When Chirrut breathes he can feel Baze inside of him, under the muscles of his abdomen and spreading open his inner flesh. He pants just so he can focus on the feeling. 

“You’re so tight,” Baze groans into Chirrut’s ear, sending a shockwave of tremors through Chirrut’s whole body. 

Chirrut chokes on a breathless laugh, mewling; “You’re just very big.” 

At that, Baze sinks his teeth into the soft flesh under Chirrut’s ear and Chirrut jumps with a startled, pleased moan. Before Chirrut can suck in a breath, Baze moves his hips back, sliding out of him. He feels his legs jerk, twitching as he is overwhelmed by the vivid clarity his own body provides him of the other man’s cock. The thick pulsing veins and ridges of skin along the tip drag against his flesh and Chirrut can feel everything, a graphic picture painted by his own body. 

Chirrut doesn’t have long to linger on the sensation before Baze is snapping his hips forward and pounding into him. Fire explodes behind Chirrut’s useless eyes and he arches off the bed with an ardent cry. Baze must take it as encouragement because he does it again before Chirrut can even comprehend what’s happening. 

When Baze sets a pace, thrusting in as deep as possible before pulling back out and doing it again, over and over, Chirrut can only lay there and savor the bliss being driven into him. 

His moans and throaty whines sound impossibly loud over Baze’s own quiet huffing and panting. Baze’s fingertips push into the meat of Chirrut’s thigh and back; Chirrut can feel every callous line  as they scrape across his skin. The scent of sex, heady and sharp, mixes with the delicate aroma of frankincense from the oil coating their overheated flesh, glossy and slick. 

Baze smells like sweat and sand and spice, like Jedha, like home, like Baze. 

A pained grunt slips from Chirrut’s mouth and it almost hurts his ears it’s so loud. One of Baze’s hands releases his leg to grab his waist suddenly and Chirrut shudders at the abrupt touch; it hits his skin like a slap, stinging and hot. When Baze slides it down to touch Chirrut’s stiff member gently, Chirrut nearly jolts out of Baze’s arms. He almost shouts it feels so good and Baze hesitates. 

“Please, please please,” Chirrut begs, unable to form anything more coherent under his onslaught of pleasure. 

Baze picks back up, cock sliding in and out of Chirrut’s body forcefully, only this time, Baze also strokes a hand down Chirrut’s throbbing length. Chirrut’s hands snap up to tangle in Baze’s hair as Baze sucks at his throat. 

Suddenly it is all too much. 

Chirrut’s ears strain under the lurid sounds of their love making, the smells are too strong and hurt his nose, his skin is on fire.

Baze’s skin on his is smouldering and his cock inside of him is burning and his big, rough hand around him, stroking him, scorches his very blood. Chirrut combusts under Baze’s heat and it is incredible, breathtaking, rapturous. 

He erupts between Baze’s fingers and Chirrut’s whole world collapses around him. Chirrut lurches under Baze, his hands seize Baze’s as Chirrut sits up in a rush, muscles in his stomach and legs twitching. His chest is heaving in desperate breaths, and his legs jerk. He can feel his insides spasming around Baze’s cock and sobs. 

“Stop, ah! Baze, stop, stop,” through Baze’s fingers he can feel his cock still jerking and spilling, hot and wet, and Baze pulls free immediately. 

“Shh, Chirrut, I’ve got you,” Baze cradles Chirrut close as he strokes him softly through the intense waves of his orgasm. 

Chirrut’s breaths stutter as his whole body twitches and spasms. One of Baze’s hands grabs the back of Chirrut’s head, holds him into Baze’s shoulder and cards his fingers through Chirrut’s shaved, bristly hair. 

When Chirrut sucks in a calming breath, the agonizing pleasure overwhelming him eases. He feels himself soften in Baze’s hand and carefully lifts it away from his cock. Chirrut kisses Bazes jaw, an apology. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers but Baze just holds him more tightly. 

“Don’t apologize to me, Chirrut,” his voice is quiet, conscious of Chirrut’s sensitive state; “That was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Thank you.” 

Chirrut is tired but he slides his cool fingers up Baze’s hot thigh, looking for his hard, throbbing cock. When he finds it, Chirrut wraps his hand around the stiff flesh. Baze gasps, arms tightening around him, and Chirrut pumps his hand up and down. He kisses at Baze’s neck, tongue dipping out to taste the sweat dripping below Baze’s jaw; salty and bitter, but Chirrut likes it. 

When Baze comes in his fingers, he hauls Chirrut up to his mouth and claims his lips. Chirrut moans into the kiss to match Baze’s deep, vibrating groan. The contact doesn’t last very long, Baze needing to pull away too soon for air as he comes down from the high of his climax.

Together they fall gracelessly back into the blankets, rolling until Chirrut is sprawled over Baze, arm tossed across his chest and leg thrown over his waist. As close as they are, Chirrut curls even closer. 

“We should get cleaned up,” Baze suggests and Chirrut can hear the grimace he’s wearing in the tremors of his voice. 

The world feels light again, golden. The dark side seems so far away, unable to constrict its gnarled fingers around something as bright and pure as love. 

“I love you,” Chirrut says instead of replying to Baze. 

The broad chest under Chirrut heaves with a great sigh. “I’m not going to be distracted that easily Chirrut,” he chides but there’s a softness to his voice Chirrut realizes Baze reserves solely for him. 

“I love you,” Chirrut says again, slower and more tenderly; “Baze Malbus, I love you.”

Baze leans down to kiss Chirrut, a soft touch of their lips. “Force, it’s about time,” he whispers against Chirrut’s mouth; “I love you with everything that I am and more, Chirrut. I always have.” 

Chirrut kisses Baze again as the sun rises outside and Chirrut believes. He is one with the Force and the Force is with him.

 

* * *

 


End file.
